Posts for June 17, 2021 (page 2)

Hello Mrs. W, – she addresses 
my mother. 
Can she understand me? she asks me.
Does she know your name? she asks.
What is her name? she points to another. 
How much does she drink 
In a day? she asks me.
How many ounces of food 
does she eat at a time? 
Does she ever seem aggitated?
How often does she urinate?
Have a bowel movement?
How much does she sleep 
in a 24 hour period?
What is your role here? she questions. 
Caregiver. 
How can I help you? she asks.
What do you need? she offers.
There are no words. 

by Kelly Waterbury 

In the mirror today

Tornado alley
Is shifting east

Dorothy breathes
A breath of relief

According to the monkey
typewriter theorem, (X) number
of monkeys pecking away on (Y)
number of typewriters at random
for (Z) amount of time could produce
the works of Shakespeare.

Mathematical studies and even
a few experiments (!) have concluded
that the statistical likelihood of this
is so infinitesimal as to be an essential
impossibility.

Unless, however, the power
of infinity were applied, in which
case a single monkey (or related primate)
could produce everything
ever written, past and future.

Despite the fact that infinity
is only a mathematical concept
(not a physical reality), it gives me
hope that I, with finite time
and a single laptop, could produce
a poem now and then.

let me pace
one foot in front of the other
across this floor
toughened skin on polished wood
these wild gestures
conducting the symphony of crazy
I know so well

let me pace
until my feet grow tired
calluses worn to fresh pink
arches weary of the heavy lifting
sinking closer to the floor
toes curling like claws

let me pace
humming a mad lullaby
half remembered from a better time
when mummys and daddys still sang
before bed and we said our prayers
on bended knee

let me pace
because tonight words mean nothing
tonight to sit still is impossible
and I can hear the melody leading me onward
guiding me across the floor
one foot in front of the other

A bowl of cereal for dinner

Like being a kid again,

Skipping dinner and then sneaking a late night snack

Hey, but at least I ate.

There’s something about breakfast for dinner

It reminds me of my mom

She cooks it all the time,

But it also feels like we’re breaking the food rules

But we do it anyways

It makes it feel like the day isn’t about to end,

Like it’s just starting again

Man, I love cereal for dinner

all was well until the custodian threw away my salad dressing
a complete fridge clean out
goodbye half bottle of the fancy type, please note it was not expired

things were peachy until a few of the worms in the compost decided to crawl out of the box
ending up dried on the tile floor of my office
I should have made sure the lid was tighter but who knew they’d plot an escape

it was a good day until the middle school mean girls acted as such
and the boys, being boys, too
grinding nerves and causing some idle, some not, threats of punishment

everything was cool until I saw the police officers at the outdoor concert
I wondered why I’ve never seen any at the park concerts across town
wondered in an ironic sort of way

life was moving as normal until the accident
lives collided while cars collided and everything mingled
yet this morning who would have known

the story was good until it wasn’t
then it became mundane or just plain dull
and we realized we knew the ending but we postponed reading it, opting to continue
          as we were

Quiet on Sixth Street,
ripe plums the color of night
falling from the tree.
 

the electric massager
works away at my feet,
so that when i pull them out,
they’re red

my eyes are heavy
as the sun sinks,
& i think about all
of my sorrow

the sun will rise,
& i will be rested,
ready to brace a new day
because that’s what we do

the massager powers off,
& i dream about a human hand
working over my calluses,
pressing their thumb into my sole

For years they managed a full garden.
The big chest freezer holds the evidence. 
I am a few inches taller than my mom,
So, I volunteer to do the emptying.
I reach past the newest additions-
A collection of mini cheese burgers, Tony’s pizzas and burritos. 
My toes leave the ground and I nearly tumble in,
Just as my hand grasps the cool-whip bowl,
With its masking tape label in Granny’s familiar scrawl
Strawberries 2015